Contritum Aetheres, Detestabilis Cor
by shadowfang6421
Summary: Dealing with an unfamiliar threat isn't easy, doing so quietly even more so. So what happens when you're forced to work with those who despise you? Part II, Sequel to Ataraxia Praeteritum, Perdidit Futurum.
1. Ch 1: Things that Should have Been

Contritum Aetheres, Detestabilis Cor

Ch 1: Things that Should have Been

He felt the warmth of the sun on his face, much to his annoyance. Rejecting it, he pulled the covers over his head, in a vain attempt to stave off the inevitable.

Finally surrendering to the rising sun, Garfield found himself rising out from his slumber. Heading to his bathroom with drone-like grogginess, he scowled as the fluorescent lights scorched his eyes.

Taking one look at his hair it was non-negotiable that he was going to have to take a shower to tame it.

Standing under the hot bath he revealed in the warmth as his senses opened up as the after-effects of such a long sleep were washed away.

Finishing up, drying off, and getting dressed, Garfield only got his first glance of the time right before heading out his door.

Groaning, Gar could just hear Robin's scolding voice, though he made a quick note to point out to him that no one bothered to come wake him up.

Deciding that there was no need for haste, his pace was casual, his hands resting behind his head.

As he reached the elevator, he breathed a sigh of relief as there was no one in it, before taking it to the commons where he readied himself for a verbal lashing.

Reaching the doors from the elevator he opened them, readying an apology, but never got the chance.

Confetti nearly blasted him clean out the door while a torrent of balloons obscured his vision of the room.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" A chorus of voices shouted.

Wading through the mass of balloons, Beast Boy looked at the four superpowered teens in front of him, a banner hung from the ceiling reading 'Happy 18th Birthday!".

Slowly his mind processed what had just happened, and then the realization that it was truly his day slammed into him.

A soft "wow" was all that left his lips.

Flinching as a robotic hand slapped him on his back, he saw Cyborg's smiling face looking at him.

"Looks like our youngest just became an adult!"

Playfully shoving his cybernetic friend Beast Boy laughed.

Ice cream and sweets lined the counter, the changing smiled as his eyes scanned over all the sugar that he would be ingesting that day.

Robin had let him sleep in that day as they went about setting up for a surprise party. For the next few hours, he opened small gifts from each of them, played games, and when the cake was split it was the best he had ever tasted.

He couldn't believe he had forgotten his birthday.

As they all sat on the couch watching Wicked Scary (this time during the day at the instance of everyone), Beast Boy felt melancholy and perhaps a bit of nostalgia.

"Do you guys think…" he spoke up suddenly and then suddenly stopped.

Pausing the movie, each of them turned to him, waiting for him to go on.

"Nothing, forget it."

Robin narrowed his eyes "It was something a second ago."

Frowning he looked at his friends, unsure of how to put his question.

"Do you think we can do this forever?"

"Friend Beast Boy, what do you mean?" Starfire asked, worry in her voice.

"Jump's safe, every since Paris there's record low crime, and we're all… older, all it's going to take is…."

Raven closed her book she had been reading rather loudly, seemingly unwilling to watch the movie after the previous incident.

"We've made it this far; I don't think the time is going to change anything at this point."

Beast boy smiled.

"Can you guys promise?"

Cyborg laughed, "really you're gonna make us promise?"

Beast Boy shrugged "It _is_ my birthday."

Each member grumbled sarcastically and each gave their word the team would last forever.

Continuing the movie Beast Boy sipped the last of his drink, standing up he went to pour some more from the pitcher on the counter.

Taking another gulp and then filling the cup once again he turned to see his friends all laughing and carrying on without him.

"You should tell them." He heard behind his ear.

Frowning the changeling took another sip of his cup. "just a little longer." He pleaded.

A scarlet figure pulled themselves right next to him, "Why bother, you're out of time anyway."

As the words left his mouth the windows shattered, an explosion rocking the tower as everyone was thrown to the ground.

The room filled with smoke and even laying on the floor Beast Boy was struggling to breathe.

Before he could even change into anything useful, he felt the burning of electricity running through his body, his muscles contracted, unable to move, he could only watch as a silhouette in the smoke strode towards him.

The crunching of glass under his feet was a steady, rhythmic sound, almost appealing, that was until he recognized the face, the black and orange, and one eye staring down at him.

There were no words, no witty quips, just two hands reaching down and grabbing the immobile changeling.

It wasn't entirely clear what happened next, Garfield had always been rather fuzzy after he had been injected with some sort of tranquilizer.

The room blurred, its colors meshing together like some sort of abstract oil painting, but he could tell well enough that there was some sort of fight, and that as every remaining Titan tried there best, eventually he could feel the air rushing past his face, and the speck of Titan Tower fading into the background.

"Why must you always dream of this?"

The landscape froze, and suddenly light burst into his eyes.

Ω¤Ω

Groaning, the changeling sat up in bed, his body protesting every slight movement he made. Smashing the alarm clock next to him he fought the urge to lay back down.

Sirens blared down on the streets below as pulled himself out of bed and stretched. Joints popped and cracked as he made his way across the atrocious apartment, he was currently squatting in.

Flicking on the light switch, the bulbs over the mirror struggled to come to life, but ultimately light shined on his face.

Crimson skin lit up the filthy mirror as hands went about cupping water and splashing it onto the dry face. Rubbing away the sleep, Garfield noted the stubble growing along his jaw and made an absent-minded note to shave when he got back.

Dressing quickly and throwing on a jacket the changeling grabbed an elongated case he made his way out onto the fire escape. He was near the top of the building he was staying at, however, it would take a few careful stories as to not draw attention.

Pulling his jacket tighter around himself as the wind blew and light rain whipped in his face, he made his way up the rusty stairway, the soft clanging noise following him as he made his way upwards.

Finally, on the roof, Garfield admired the view he had chosen this building for, or at least as much a view as Gotham could give him.

Towering gothic buildings towered nearby, while the rain was illuminated by the neo signs advertising any and all depraved and lustful desires of man.

Opening the case, the crimson changeling pulled out a single cylinder. Unscrewing the top, he let the hot steam be pulled into his nostrils as he nearly salivated over the cheap soup that he had made before his sleep.

Scarfing it down, he closed the cylinder only to pull out another, this time slimmer in nature.

Placing it to his eye, the monocular scanned for his target.

S.T.A.R. Labs' Gotham division was not somewhere one was happily assigned. It wasn't polished like the other divisions, a product of Gotham's natural charm and no overly dangerous technology was kept there, as Gotham was prone to be more than a little volatile, even with the caped crusader roaming about.

There was only one piece he needed there, and there was only one man he needed to get to, to acquire it.

Watching over the facility the night proceeded further, his target wasn't one to have a typical nine to five schedule. This was only the start of the second week he had been tracking their habits and even he could tell they were borderline obsessive.

Any semblance of a schedule was thrown out the window, sometimes he would be done as early as eight at night and sometimes he wouldn't even leave to go home.

But he watched, it was necessary, a senior S.T.A.R. scientist acting strangely would arouse some suspicion.

As the rain picked up, Garfield pulled his coat tighter as well as grew some fur under his clothing, a bit of extra insulation, just enough to keep him warm, but not enough to draw his attention from the building.

As time went on, and the soup began to run out, he was thinking it was going to be an all-nighter once again.

Instead, the good scientist started out in the early hours of the morning, an umbrella in hand and started home.

Making sure he knew exactly where he was would be tricky in the sea of umbrella's, but Garfield wouldn't be overly angry, not yet.

As he scaled the rooftops, keeping track of his target, he was surprised he wasn't going to take the subway this time, instead, when he grew tired of calling a taxi, walking would do for him.

So, that was how he found himself, watching a man standing at what felt like the slowest light in the world.

What he wouldn't do for some action.

"You're a hard man to reach."

Why did he have to think that?

Turning around, he saw someone who didn't know him, but he very much knew.

The white hair was unmistakable, hanging past her shoulders and kept behind her by the mask she wore covering only the top half of her face, while on sky blue eye peered out at him.

Rose Wilson was intimidating as always with her armor and favorite duel katanas, Garfield felt a ping of nostalgia as he recalled sparing with those exact two weapons multiple times.

"And what would the daughter of Slade Wilson have to reach me for?"

She eyed him, unsure of what exactly do now that her father's name had been spoken so openly. He had made the first move, and she was going to have to be on edge.

"If it can wait, I'm a little busy…"

"My father sent me here ahead of him, he has a job here in Gotham, with all the chaos your boss has been stirring up, business has been good."

Scowling the changing turned back to see if his man was still standing at the curb, only to see that his night watch was for nothing as he disappeared.

"This affects me how again?" Garfield growled back, suddenly becoming more agitated that his target was lost.

"The has nothing to do with you, but my father… he has an eye for talent, and a partnership would be beneficial…"

"Not interested," Garfield said cutting her off, starting to walk back to his apartment. "And I hope that wasn't an intended pun."

Slightly off-put, but not quite showing it, his unwanted companion followed.

"All that you've been doing in Gotham, from what I've heard… all that you've done under the Red Hood, you don't think your skills could be more lucrative somewhere else."

Frowning the changeling just shook his head "I don't think you understand the situation fully."

"So, it's not for money then, it's a loyalty to your boss."

Turning swiftly, Garfield meets her fact to face, "Who said he was my boss?"

"Just about everyone I've met."

Sighing, he just continued on, already done with this conversation.

Scrambling after him, Rose still wasn't the one to let this go so easily.

"So, if not money and not loyalty, what exactly are you here in Gotham for?"

Stopping and turned the crimson man just frowned at her.

"Survival."

**Well well well, look who's back!**

**Things took a little longer than usual, but I'm back here once more, took me long enough.**

**Get ready for the next installment, I really want this one to turn out well.**

**Until Next Time**


	2. Ch 2: The Bat, the Bird, and the Bandit

Contritum Aetheres, Detestabilis Cor

Ch 2: The Bat, the Bird, and the Bandit

A singular blue glow illuminated a sliver of the cavernous underground base, with its sole occupant sitting in a chair looking up at the massive singular screen.

The Dark Knight didn't want to sleep, while it was rare that he could at all, it was especially true tonight.

Two pictures stared back at him from the computer, one a young and joyful, yet mischievous face, a classic domino mask looped around the young man's eyes, a stark contrast to the vibrantly colored costume he wore with him into battle.

The other picture showed the dark menacing figure he had faced months ago. Along the wet cathedral rooftop and then through an abandoned apartment complex. The crimson mask of the Red Hood stared back at him; its lifeless eyes boring into his own.

It had been quite in Gotham since them after all Jason had made sure that his control over crime after the fall of Black Mask was intact, but that was the most perplexing thing to the Bat.

Jason wasn't after money, he wasn't after power, he was after him. Just as he told him while he held a gun to the Joker's head that was what this was all about, the three of them.

He rubbed his eyes, he was exhausted, he shouldn't be, after all, he was accustomed to this, but whenever he opened this file it felt like every night he had spent swinging from the rooftops of Gotham suddenly piled onto him at once.

He closed the file; Jason didn't want to be found and there were more pressing matters to attend to.

Opening the next all he was met with were grainy images taken from security and traffic cameras. There were one or two decent photos, only showing a piece of a face or hair.

Leaning back into his chair he brought his hand to his chin rubbing the stubble that had grown since the yesterday morning.

Reviewing notes, he had typed earlier his instincts told him to press harder on this subject, but in all honesty, there wasn't much to go on, most of it was rumors anyways.

The majority of the thugs he had spoken to said he was an enforcer for Jason, but all of them simply had heard that there were no firsthand accounts. Others said he was a hitman working in Gotham for the highest bidder, but there had been no high profile killing nor were there any crimes that pointed to an unusual suspect.

He was good at hiding his tracks, every photo or video piece he had was of the man wearing makeup to imitate regular skin, but underneath there was only red.

He had first popped up on the Dark Knights radar after an interrogation with a drug dealer, he had been so scared that he asked if he had a new sidekick, one with red skin.

At this point, it was a rumor on the street, but there was nothing definitive the caped crusader could find. So, he had Oracle search through Gotham's security network, first for red skin, then anomalies.

It took weeks and this was all he had to show for it and he didn't even know if these were who he was looking for.

Leaning back into his chair he rubbed his eyes again. Looking at the time it read 5:43 am. Closing down the bat computer. Bruce Wayne made his way back to the manor. Tonight, was over, and he would have to search for answers tomorrow.

Ω¤Ω

Even as he laid in bed, a warm body next to him, he couldn't sleep. It was as if what little light that came into the room from Jump's skyline kept him awake and here he was staring at the ceiling.

Dick Grayson was restless.

This was his third time climbing out of bed. After putting on a different t-shirt he rubbed his eyes. He should be exhausted, after the day's training and repairing his gadgets for the better half of five hours, he should be sleeping like a baby, but here he was, staring out the window at Jump City's night lights.

Back in his bed, he could hear Kori readjusting to the sudden lack of warmth from her partner. He knew she wouldn't be waking up though, today she had gotten back from a ceremony on Tamaran and had immediately eaten a meal before going to bed, barely having enough energy to tell them anything about her trip.

He just smiled at her sleeping figure, her fiery hair shot in all directions from tossing and turning, and he was sure he would hear about it in the morning.

It was easy to forget that only two years ago they were all kids chasing Slade through the city, or defending it from an interdimensional demon. Other than Tokyo, there hadn't been a whole lot of activity.

Sure, there was crime, there would always be crime, but supervillains? After Paris, it seemed like almost nothing happened here.

At the mere thought of Paris Dick's mood immediately soured.

Deciding he needed a walk, he made his way to the hallway, doing his best to keep the sound of the door as quiet as possible.

Letting his feet do the walking, he knew exactly where he was going, it was where he always went when he was couldn't sleep.

The door opened with a hiss and in he walked. The team had affectionately referred to it as his 'office' after Kori decided to stay in his room, he had to clean out the piles of paper and tools for her things. Besides, he couldn't have another person constantly seeing his mess.

Opening a drawer, he pulled out his old friend, inspecting it as he sat down in his weathered chair his eyes danced across its' surface, remarking how he had weathered it over the years.

The birdarang was barely red anymore, a few paint chips still visible on its upper surface while the once fine edges had been worn dull but his of fiddling with it over the years.

He looked around for one of his sharpeners, getting up he searched through his piles of paper and broken bits of technology to no avail.

Sighing he frowned at the mess that he had made, only for an idea to pop itself into his mind.

Walking back over to his desk, he closed the first drawer and looked down at the one below it. The drawer had a combination lock, only four digits, but it wasn't like someone couldn't just break it with brute force.

Unlocking and opening it, he held back a sneeze as dust came flying up at him. Batting it away, he dove through personal affects until he found what he was looking for.

A rectangular piece of stone, only a few inches long, it wasn't as heavy as Dick remembered as he pulled it out of the drawer. Placing it on the desk his lip curled ever so slightly as he fondly remembered sharpening birdarangs and batarangs alike for hours on the insistence of a certain Dark Knight.

Looking down to close the drawer his eye caught something. It had been under the whetstone, pushing an old white and red mask to the side he pulled it out.

The backside said 'Sorry Wally' scribbled in sloppy handwriting, and he could feel the glossy front in his hand. Memory's flooded back as he flipped it over.

There he was, scrawny, young Dick Grayson, the smallest in the picture. He was sitting on a cooler, chowing down on a half-burnt hot dog.

He wasn't alone, an Atlantean was there with him, seemingly unsure of what to make of the beef he was consuming for the first time.

The clone beside him looked ready to destroy the grill that caused his cooking skills to be brought into question, while the Martian smiled at the camera that she undoubtedly was telekinetically holding.

He remembered that day almost too well, Wally had been stuck in his first day of school and arrived just in time to trip in front of a mission briefing.

Brushing the dust off the picture, he placed it back into the drawer, closing it.

Standing up he walked over his displays. One, a cylindrical tube holding one of his last Robin outfits. He had taken the liberty of stealing the idea from the Batcave after Kori said his 'office' needed some 'decoration'.

The one next to it was his older costume, much smaller, and having been designed by the Dark Knight himself, much darker.

Finally, his new costume. Tall and imposing, the blue clashed with the black as it stretched from shoulder to shoulder.

He had taken up the task of designing a new costume after Paris. After _his_ visit.

It had been brief, but Robin wanted nothing to do with the Caped Crusader in the first place.

After all this time, he still didn't know exactly what had happened.

Turning back to his desk he sat down in his chair and turned on his terminal.

Picking the familiar file, he opened it reading over the reports as he went about sharpening his old birdarang.

Raven had told them everything and with such detail and clarity, it had made the younger Robin's stomach turn.

But now for what felt like the hundredth time reading over the report, he didn't feel anything as his eyes danced across the familiar words.

'Crimson'

'Monster'

'Dragon'

'Hate'

'Destruction'

'Control'

'Rebar'

'Impale'

'Disappear'

What was the point of reading this? In the last few years, he hadn't been able to find one thing from any hero that detailed someone like that.

Initially, the possibility that Raven was lying had crept into his mind, paranoia sent him back to Beast Boy and Terra, but the amount of detail and the visible discomfort he observed from her when they talked about it was enough to make him quell any doubts he had.

His eyes found their way back to the name of the file, _Apex_… the name this creature had given itself or according to itself, the Brain gave it to him.

If it was able to single-handedly cut its way through a sea of villains and take on Raven while she was enraged then who knows what else it could be capable of.

All of a sudden, his eyes began to feel heavy. Looking out the singular small window he saw the lowest part of the horizon beginning to change to a deep orange. How long had he been sat here?

Yawning he put down the whetstone and ran his finger over the crisp edge of the birdarang.

Sighing, he set it down and began his way back to his room. Perhaps he could salvage some sleep tonight.

Ω¤Ω

_*CRACK*_

The body went limp in his headlock.

For a few more moments he waited for the twitched to stop, then let the body fall to the floor with a defining thud.

Readjusting his jacket, Red Hood looked at his lieutenants in front of him as fear gripped their senses.

"Well… get him out of here." He commanded as he gestured to the body.

Instantly bodies moved. Four of them grabbed a limb and dragged the lifeless figure to the door.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way behind his desk. Looking over the rest of his lieutenants he shrugged.

"Was that so hard?" He asked, only to be met with silence.

"WAS IT?" He said more forcefully.

A series of 'nos' echoed from each of their throats.

"Good, now you can remember what happens when you sell at schoolyards."

"Anything else?" He asked looking over each of them.

Once again no one spoke.

"Alright," He said, gesturing to the door "get out."

As they all scrambled for the door Jason Todd felt the urge to rub his eyes.

Leaning back into his chair he kicked his feet up onto his desk. Looking around the room he wondered how Black Mask was ever able to acquire this place.

The office building, he had attacked when he had originally gone after the head of organized crime Gotham had been repaired and as he consolidated his hold over the fractured criminal underworld of Gotham, Jason felt it was fitting to take the throne for himself.

After making it bat-proof of course.

The office was different from Black Mask's, after all, he had easily blown it up himself.

It had limited window space, and reinforced concrete made it blast resistant. It was mostly spare, it was the subterranean levels of the skyscraper which were his favorite domain, but meetings had to be conducted with some civility and this was the place to do it. A few chairs a flashy desk, it was all mostly for show.

He rose from the chair and stretched his limbs. He hadn't truly wanted to control crime, he would much rather spend his time trying to ensnare Bruce, but a certain red-skinned phantom had persuaded him otherwise.

Heading to one of the few windows, he peered down at the streets below, people busied themselves going to work as the sun made its way over the horizon.

They had no idea. No idea of the hidden war that was played out, night after night on their rooftops.

But that didn't really matter, he had meant what he said to Bruce.

"_You can't stop crime, I'm controlling it!"_

And he was doing just that.

But there was a catch.

Feeling the hair on the back of his neck stick up, he drew his pistols, only to be met with the same sight.

"Is that really necessary?" a frown graced his red face.

Holstering his weapons Jason's eyes narrowed behind his helmet.

"Being a fly on the wall again?"

The crimson man shrugged, "Something like that."

He stood up and walked over next to him, looking down at the street Jason had just statured at.

After a few moments, he looked back up, his eyes completely the same as they were when they first met.

"We have a problem."

_**Urgh, what year is it?**_

_**Oh shit, 2020, well that's a problem.**_

_**Your boy is back and with a chapter for you guys today, time just kinda got away from me and before I knew it, it was winter break…**_

_**Can you blame me? College sucks!**_

_**SHOUTOUTS!**_

_**PoisonPen37- A sequel yes, sorry about the wait.**_

_**Beakers47- Time Jump= yes, I think you need to reread the last 3 chapters of the previous story my friend.**_

_**Will I be updating regularly this time? I honestly don't know, I got time on break, so maybe.**_

_**Until next time.**_


	3. Chapter 3: Homecoming

Contritum Aetheres, Detestabilis Cor

Ch 3: Homecoming

_Jason felt the wind rush past his face as he stumbled down the back alleyways of Gotham's worst neighborhoods._

_He heard the sirens blare and rush through the streets towards the mess he had left behind him. The haunting tones of police cruisers, ambulances, and fire engines all roared together into a cacophony of the greatest magnitude he had ever heard during his life in this godforsaken city._

_The smoldering rubble that was left of his hideout was behind him, along with what he prayed were the smoldering remains of the Clown Prince of Crime._

_Jason couldn't tell whether he cared if Bruce had survived the blast, knowing him he probably did and at this point, Jason couldn't feel any emotions towards the caped crusader._

_He could however feel the four broken ribs jabbing at his lungs._

_In hindsight, he had gotten off rather easy, a few broken bones and minor lacerations was an easy punishment for nearly blowing up a whole city block, but it seemed even he wasn't immune to the mental aspect of his injuries._

_His body simply went into autopilot, his legs forced him to move through the shadows and continue his slow trek across the city._

_The force of the concussive blast left him in a daze for so long it wasn't until the sun began to creep over the bay of Gotham's harbor did he regain the majority of his composure._

_Beaten by the frigid winds during the early morning, his body had taken him to the only safe place it knew._

_Standing in front of the old dock warehouse he felt a sense that it had shrunk since the last time he had been there. It was almost certainly because he had grown, the former Boy Wonder hadn't seen this place since he was a boy, a street rat with a knack for stealing tires._

_It felt like a lifetime ago. _

_And in a sense, it had been._

_Gritting his teeth as he looked for an entrance, Jason was relieved that a side door was unlocked, however, it wasn't going to slide open without some force._

_The battered young man ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt and clenched it between his teeth, he heaved the rusting door wide though to slip through, letting out a painful grunt with every inch._

_Sliding inside, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the place he had once considered his true home. _

_A sense of nostalgia-filled him as he looked over the jungle of crates that stretched out unhindered throughout the warehouse. Early morning light covered them in a hazy golden shower accented by the dust that floated in the air._

_Even though the smell of his own blood his senses were still assaulted by the dust and mildew in the air. Even after all this time, this place hadn't changed._

_Walking further into the warehouse he inspected his surroundings, layers of graffiti sprayed onto the wall overlapped leaving a collage of youthful artistic chaos seemingly tattooed into the concrete._

_A small smirk crept onto his face without his knowledge, his old stomping grounds had seemingly been occupied by a new group of youngsters._

_Crates and boards of wood had been arranged in an obvious attempt to make ramps, halfpipes, and all manner of objects for the use of skateboards. Broken wheels and even a few boards had been left behind, either on purpose or abandoned as if someone had been discovered._

_A memory crept into his mind, of a group of children huddled around late at night passing cigarette butts scavenged off the ground, while telling stories to one another. That was once him, a nobody street rat._

_If it weren't for the awful smell that permeated through the air, Jason would have had much more time to reminisce, but as soon as it hit his nose he was on high alert._

_Tensing, the clattering of bottles resonated through the abandoned building, and a groan accompanied by it._

_From behind a pallet of crates, a figure stumbled, clumsily out of the dark. Ragged, unkempt hair clouded its face, while a stench Jason could only identify as booze and garbage emanated off the man._

_Muttering nonsense came from the person and in his concentration to hear, Jason almost didn't realize the man was red, a deep crimson red._

_Just as the confusion crossed Jason's face, the head of the man shot up, like a laser his bloodshot eyes met Jason's, all before he lunged for him._

_If it weren't for his injuries the former Robin would have dodged, but he was more concerned with protecting his ribs from the impact._

_When the raggedy man did find him, it wasn't nearly as painful as he expected, perhaps that had to do with the questionable balance of his new companion._

_Those eyes bore into his. It was as if they were filled with fire, they were so wild, like an animal's eyes._

_For a solid minute the person just held him down, looking him over, Jason couldn't even tell if he had blinked or not._

"_Jason?" I breathed out, its' breath burning his nostrils with a putrid stench "JASON!" It screamed excitedly_

_Jumping off the former boy-wonder, the strange man ran away, rambling to himself as he passed behind a series of crates._

_Jason groaned, but hoisted himself up, still racked with confusion he hesitated before his confusion got the better of him and followed the strange person deeper into the warehouse._

_After a few minutes of following the echoes of his new acquaintance, he stopped along in front of a makeshift campsite._

_The crimson figure sat in on an overturned bucket, watching him with bloodshot eyes and gestured to another overturned bucket in front of him._

_Not wanting to be rude nor insult the mysterious man in front of him, Jason took a seat._

_Sitting down, the smile on the stranger's face grew. A sickly wide grin that was too akin to the Joker's for comfort._

_Leaning forward, he became to creep towards Jason's face. His breath once again stinging his nose._

"_Do you want to know how you die?"_

Ω¤Ω

The lift seemed to go sallower when he was with him, especially when his face made that smile.

"You're doing it again."

"Hmm?"

Jason brought his index finger to the corner of his lip signaling what he meant.

The man who called himself Logan just rubbed his jaw a bit, and the muscles slowly shifted back to an emotionless state.

It was more than a little creepy at first, but Jason had come to terms with it after sobering the man up.

It had dent been easy, but it was well worth the effort.

As the lift came to a slow haul, Jason stepped forward, his companion in pursuit.

His facilities were ironically very similar to his old mentor's, albeit much smaller in scale. One simple central terminal for his own 'batcomputer' and a variety of different rooms all around it each with their own purpose.

Weapon patience, physical fitness, training, fabrication, anything he truly needed down was down here, all funded by Gotham's underbelly and only accessible to the two of them, but it wasn't typical for his 'friend' to pay him a visit on such short notice.

Clearing half-eaten meals and tinkering projects off the desk of his main terminal in a vain effort to clean up for his 'guest', Jason turned to him while throwing himself into his chair.

"So… spill, you don't just come to me for nothing. Whatcha need, more money, supplies?."

The crimson-skinned man just looked around at his surroundings, it has been a while since he had been down here, this place was nearly finished now.

Walking over to look at one of the outcomes he spoke up, his voice steady, and smooth.

"Ravenger came to see me…"

Jason raised an eyebrow, "Slade's girl?" He asked, while a smile formed on his lips "You should ask her out, seems like your type."

Ignoring the comment he turned back to the crime lord, "If she's here, so is he, and if you didn't hire him for a hit…."

"He's probably here for me…"

Jason frowned as the words left his mouth. It could have been any of the other criminal organizations in Gotham. Turning around he typed into the console as its massive screen came to life.

His 'partner' walked up behind him, eyes on the screen as it pulled up a map of Gotham, outlining known territory held by each criminal enterprise.

The majority of the map was red, the empire that had been successfully usurped form Black Mask had been surprisingly resilient, after all, as long as everyone got paid, there was no reason to split, that was if you weren't greedy.

Several small factions had broken off, Russians, Italians, even the Penguin has taken his piece during the chaos, the question was, which one had ordered a hit on Jason?

"She knew about me…."

Jason turned to his companion "you do kinda stand out…" he said pointing to his face.

It was true, even with makeup it was hard to hide red skin, especially with Oracle scanning Gotham. He had been careful, years of being actively hunted installed a certain set of habits, but he was certain that he had slipped on more than one occasion.

"Word probably sped after I needed your help with the White Shark…" Jason's mind ran back to the chaotic months of consolidation Black Mask's empire, he had to admit it wouldn't have been likely if he didn't have the man before him right now.

A frown formed on his face, something Jason never normally saw, there was something else.

"What else?" Jason queried "I don't really think this is important enough for you to meet with me, it isn't like half of Gotham doesn't already want me dead."

"I…" He stopped, the former boy wonder narrowed his eyes, something _was_ bothering him.

"Somethings happening soon…."

Just like that, the atmosphere in the room changed dramatically.

Jason's eyes were like a laser now "Are you sure?"

The man slowly nodded "I'm making preparations and I think you should too."

Standing up from his chair Jason paced over to one of the out coves, his hands were starting to shake slightly, he needed something to do.

"What makes you so sure?" He asked as he reached his workbench, reaching for a rack of weapons he pulled a random rifle and began to disassemble it, his hands working off memory as he waited for an answer.

"I've been watching S.T.A.R. Labs… their Motherbox should be acting up if there is enough activity, and from what I tell from Silas Stone's working hours, it's acting up."

Jason continued to work on the rifle, his hands already beginning to be covering in oil and grease. He didn't dare look at the out cove next to him, mounted to the wall, the familiar box that Logan had in his possession sat there, silent, not a pip in a few months.

"What's gonna happen then?"

The question hung in the air, he tried not to ask about the knowledge he possessed, but sometimes he couldn't be bothered with subtlety.

"Most likely, when the League finds out, they'll convey a meeting. They think that Earth is safe, but I guess they never really counted on Apocalypse circumventing their boom tube countermeasures."

"They'll be confused at first, but eventually they'll call on everyone they can, all contacts, and I have a feeling, Bruce will ask for your help somehow."

Shutting his eyes, Jason's hands finally stopped "What exactly is your plan again, I seem to always be left out of that bit…"

For a moment he said nothing, there was just silence behind him, turning, the changeling just stood there, crossed armed.

"Listen… I've trusted you, through this whole thing, you're the one who convinced me to help you, but anytime I _really _want you to talk about the future, you seize up, just like this." Snaping, he looked at his 'partner', who was still meeting his gaze.

.

.

.

"I've told you about the next invasion, that's all you need to know."

"All… all _I need to know?! _You can't just tell someone that you're from the future and not tell them any of the details!"

Once again, the changeling before him just stared, before wincing and clutching his gut.

Jason's expression softened understanding what was happening, "That doppelganger of yours needs to work on his dodging…"

Logan nodded, while sobering him up it had been a constant annoyance dealing with these episodes, at least he was capable of dealing with them on his own.

"When Bruce asks you to the League meeting, I'll fill you in, until then you don't need to be burdened by any of this."

Shaking his head, Jason just made his way to the center console. "Fine, thanks for the warning."

Logan walked by, not saying anything till he reached the lift before turning.

"I'm always going to be sorry for bringing you into this, you know that."

Smirking sadly Jason turned to him "Yeah, so you've told me."

A frown was his response, as the lift took him back up.

Looking back at the console, Jason set about cleaning up the bits he had thrown to the floor.

_Ping_

He stopped, frozen, before listen to make sure it wasn't imaging.

_Ping Ping_

Slowly, and suppressing any panic he had, he turned to the motherbox mounted to the wall, he watched as it pulsed with light.

_PingPing PingPing_

**In my own defense, 2020 did not play out how I expected. **

**SHOUTOUTS!**

silouette amoungst stars- Thanks, hope you enjoy more.

Eris- Yeah about that whole update soon thing.

Beakers47- Plenty of time in quarantine to make some sparknotes haha.

**Well I haven't had alot of time to work on my stories this summer, but hopefully it wont take seven more months to get another chapter to you guys.**

**Until Next Time**


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